


Courtesy Call

by madaminferno



Series: Seeing Eye to Eye [2]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: But is it really?, F/M, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Character Death, No smut just exposition, Post-Virmire, Slow Build, Some cameos, and meandering build but hey, chellick has feels about feels, hes just so easy to accidentally kite, i wouldnt say it's quite kaidan neutral, ouch and then aw and then WOO, poor chellick, some slice-o-life, sorry buddy, you know how it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-18 03:27:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13673298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madaminferno/pseuds/madaminferno
Summary: After Virmire, Shepard finds consolation in a friend;  Chellick knows what's up.  *New Chapter*





	1. Chapter 1

“I'm sorry it's such short notice.”  

 

Decian Chellick stood, surprised, hand still on the door as he sized up the Commander standing in his hall;  he hadn't even known she was back on the Citadel.  Her short curls were disheveled, a long-forgotten splash of dried blood on her jaw, breathing uneven, pupils dilated, and her freckles stark against pale, clammy skin.   _Something happened.  Something bad._  “My door's always open for you, Meg.  Please, come in.  You look like you need a drink.”  

 

She followed him into the study, footsteps light behind him, and his brow plates furrowed in the abnormal silence.  Shepard was _always_ snarking;  quiet was telling.  Where did her last message say she was going…?  

 

“Virmire didn't… end well.”   _Ah._  “The Normandy is locked down in dry dock.  They're pulling us off the mission.”  He busied himself making her usual -- bourbon and soda, on the rocks -- but her arms drifted around him from behind, hugged him tight, and a little something deep in his carapace cracked as the realization dawned:   _Someone died._

 

“Megara.  I'm sorry.”  Chellick turned in her arms and wrapped his own around her;  her cheek was warm against his keel through the tunic as she nuzzled him, eyes shut tight.  

 

“No promises.”  Shepard’s voice barely registered in his translator it was so quiet, but he understood.  

 

“No guarantees.”  With one talon he lifted her chin and met her eyes as he offered a smile.  “It’s not like you have to worry about rejection, though.  I'd be lying if I didn't admit I was _hoping_ \--”

 

She pressed her lips to his with an impatient huff and he gladly obliged.   

 

Long after she'd fallen asleep, after their frenzied, desperate clinging and whispered sighs and gasping praises, Chellick found himself in the living area watching her fitful dreams through the bedroom door.  She was curled into a tight ball, hogging the coverlet, and she shivered still.  Virmire plainly continued to tear at her.

 

Decian sighed in resignation as he brought up his omnitool, pressed a few buttons, and waited.  There was only one other 'contact’ he had aboard the Normandy, only one other person he could ask;  a turian face blinked onto the screen, and Chell briefly struggled with a pang of jealousy.  Despite excellent intentions, his tone was cross.  “ _Vakarian._  I have a bone to pick with you.”  

 

“Pick away.  At this point I'm making _up_ calibrations, just to have something to do.”  His plates were rigid, gaze jaded, mandibles twitching in impatience;  _He hasn't been to sleep yet._   Chellick started to understand just how badly it must have gone.  His ire melted away, leaving only frustration.

 

“What the hell _happened_ down there, Garrus?”  

 

Vakarian sighed, rubbed a hand down his face.  “We lost a good soldier.  Gunnery Sergeant Ashley Williams.  The Commander had to … choose which of her squad would … Ash volunteered, insisted even, but that didn't make it any easier.  We tried to go back, even managed to save most of the Salarians, but … she just didn't make it.”  

 

“ _Shit.”_

 

“And as soon as we got back, the Council yanked Saren right from under her.  We were _so_ close.  If they don't let her do her job, we're all in for a hell of a mess.”

 

Chellick’s attention flicked to the bedroom door again, confirming Shepard hadn't moved, and he sighed.  “She's taking it hard.”

 

Garrus’ plates held tight to his face, unreadable;  he hesitated as he realized Decian wasn't alone.  “...I'm glad she's safe, at least.  The way she stormed out of here, I figured she would bury herself under a mound of merc corpses somewhere deep in the wards.  She looked like she wanted to hurt someone.”

 

Dec rolled a shoulder with a slight grimace, one mandible higher than the other.  “I wouldn't say she didn’t. ”  _Spirits, she's a strong human._ “Look, Vakarian, I didn't call you up just to brag.”

 

“Oh?  Then what _are_ you doing, calling me at--”  Garrus fiddled with his omnitool off screen, “--0300?  You can't be _bored._ ”

 

“Don't be an ass.”   _How to…  what can I say?_  “Garrus, she -- do you have _any_ intentions here?  Because if not, I sure as hell do, and I'm not going to keep waiting.”

 

“ _What?_ ”  Chellick burst out laughing at Vakarian’s complete bewilderment, visible even over holo.  

 

“Are you telling me you have _no idea?_ ”  The other turian wagged a cheek in exasperation.  “You _live_ on that ship with her, she takes you _everywhere she goes._  And you're clueless?  Spirits, Garrus, I thought you were one of our best detectives.”

 

“Get to your point, Chellick.”  

 

“The way she talks about you, it's obvious.”  Regardless of whatever predatory or territorial urges he was struggling under, they'd been friends, once.  Friendly _rivals_ , sure, but it was always good-natured;  no sense burning that bridge.   _Not yet, anyways._ “Look, you and I _both_ know bonds forged in the trenches are strongest.  It's part of being a soldier.  The majority of your missions now are just pages of redactions, but I know enough to fill in some of the blanks.  She trusts you, admires you.  She talks about you like you're...”  It was surprisingly hard, but eventually he ground out simply:  “She’d _prefer you_.”  

 

Garrus was silent on the other end, and Decian gave him the benefit of a pause to figure that out.  Confusion crossed his plates, first, then consideration, deep thinking, and _\-- There it finally fucking is,_ Chell thought as he watched the blush spread.  “How -- Decian, are you _sure_ \-- why are you--”

 

“I’m not going to piece it together _for_ you.  This call is just about the limit of my courtesy.”  His brows pressed together, lost in thought.  “She's…  something else.  I _never_ thought --  never _expected_ \-- If you get your shit together, I'd be more than happy to just call her my friend.  She's a hell of a woman.  I've never met -- _Spirits._ ”  Decian pinned him with that _look_ , full of challenge and dominance and assertion, and Vakarian shifted under instinctual response.  “If you _don’t_ have an interest, tell me right now and I'm going for it.  If she'll have me.  We agreed to no strings attached, but Shepard is… She's an excellent soldier, doing amazing things.  I want to be a part of that, now, if _you_ don't.”

 

Garrus was quiet for several moments.  “You're a better man than I, Decian.”  

 

“No, I'm _really_ not.”  Chellick laughed bitterly with a shake of his hung head.  “All she'd have to do is ask, and I'd whisk her off somewhere safe, and you could go to hell for all I care.   _Spirits_ , Vakarian, I've been thinking about _kids_.  Me, her, and a couple squishy alien babies.  If I didn't know better, I'd say I've lost my damn mind.”  

 

"She'll do that to you."  Garrus chuckled.  “Thanks, Chellick.  I … owe you.  I owe you _a lot_.  I don't -- It’s not -- ...I'll figure something out.”  His talon hovered over the disconnect, but something in Decian’s expression had him hesitating.  

 

“Vakarian.”  

 

“Still here.”

 

Chellick rolled his neck with a sigh, unable to wrangle his frustration.  “Just … keep her safe, okay?  I only have a vague idea of what you're up against, but I know it’s huge.  Don't you _dare_ let her die out there.  I'll kill you myself.” 

 

Garrus’ eyes turned hard.  He fixed Chell with a determined glare, and if nothing else Decian felt a little better about her odds -- though worse about his. 

 

“ _That_ I can promise.”


	2. There and Back Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suddenly, Ilos. Yeehaw!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I caved and added a chapter -- mostly because it made sense, timeline-wise, a smidge to make up for the brevity of the first. Still tweaking, but the plaster's up, so have at it.

“I know I say this every time, Dee, but your cooking is _magic._  Remind me why you're a cop, again?”  Shepard speared a section of her omelet and dropped it on her tongue, moaning gloriously.  “God, how the hell d’you get fresh salsa here?”  

 

“Trade secret, I'm afraid.  If I told you, I'd have to arrest you.”  His own fare was something different, of course, some dextro equivalent -- even kinda _looked_ like her breakfast, though a bit goopier and rose pink -- but it didn't smell half bad, either, and she weighed the odds of an allergic reaction from just a nibble as she demolished her own meal.

 

“Mm, but I'm a Spectre.  This is relevant to my investigation;  if you don't tell me, I could shoot you.”  

 

“True, but you'll never find my supplier without me.”  

 

“You win.  I'm hungry.”  Three more bites disappeared into her grin and Chellick started to wonder if humans needed to breathe while eating.  “I will _never_ get tired of your food.  A-plus, would order again.”

 

His fork paused above the plate.  “A-plus?”

 

“Oh, right.  Yeah, it --”   _Blip-blip!_ “Hold that thought.”  Still chewing, she flipped open her omnitool.  Shepard's brows knit together as she scanned, and Decian watched her silently strategize, organize her thoughts.  After a moment, she sighed and her shoulders fell.  “Dee,  I…  need to get ready.  There's ...”  He caught her eyeing his C-SEC gear on the entry table.  “We have an idea.”

 

Regulations clicked through his head as Chellick tried to count how many she was about to break.  “Your armor's buffed and on the chair beside the bed.”  Shepard smiled gratefully, pressed a kiss to his brow and disappeared into the other room.  

 

His own omni lit up as she re-emerged, suited up and tending to the buckle on her last teal gauntlet;  Decian turned from the dish machine, looking from her to his notification -- also from her. “I sent you my entire case.  Unabridged, even.”

 

Mandibles fell slack.  “But--”

 

“I don't know why I didn't before.  If anyone gets pissed about it, they can kiss my Spectre status.”  

 

“Meg--”  

 

“Aside from Anderson, you're the only person on this entire goddamn station who'll listen to me, now.  We've lost a lot of time.  Saren knew about Ilos before I did.”

 

“Where the _hell_ \--”

 

“It's in the files.  Everything's there:  beacons, mission reports, my squadmates’ reports, recovered intel, vids, Rachni, sentient plants … Virmire.  You officially know as much as I do.”  Features solemn, she stood before him at parade rest.   _Shit, this is it._  “I'm sorry, for what it's worth.  It's… going to be hard to believe at first.  I held a lot back, and I’m sorry for that, too, but I think you’ll understand by the time you’re done with it.”  

 

“Shepard.”  He couldn't bring himself back to her rank after months of familiarity.  “Can -- just a minute.  Just one.  Give me that?”  

 

Valuable seconds ticked painfully by.  “I can give you five.”

 

 _She has a mission.  I have to let her go._  Chell swallowed past the tight anxiety wedged in his carapace.   “What do you need me to do?”

 

“I'm not gonna risk your _career_ \--”  

 

“ _You're_ not.   _I'll_ keep the dock patrols light.  I can pull a string or two, at the least.  Just...”   _Come back to me._  “...be careful, Megara.  Please.”  

 

Shepard studied his face for a moment, eyes roving his plates as if seeing him for the first time and then her fingers wiggled their way between his talons, and he squeezed.  She pulled him to her, pulled him close, cheek to keel, her armor hard against his plates.  Chellick wrapped his long arms around the Commander.  He soaked in her smell, her warmth, the feel of her, just _held_ her and set his chin atop her head.  

 

“No promises.”  

 

Decian's eyes slid closed.   _I’d promise you everything._ “No guarantees.”

 

Slowly, Shepard stepped back and regarded him, tried to smile for him when he slumped back against the counter.  His chest _ached._  

 

“Take care of yourself, Dee.”

 

  


_V,_

 

_Get Joker on standby.  Meet me at Flux in 15._

 

_-S_

 

Garrus was geared up and striding into the near-empty bunks in under two minutes flat.  “Joker?”  His gentle nudge quickly became insistent. “Joker.”

 

“...dude, what the _fuck._ ”  Jeff rubbed at an eye with his palm, yawned, stretched, rolled to his back.  “C’mon, man, it's dry dock _._ I'm a _pilot._  I’m, like, the only one _here._  Eat me.”  

 

“Too brittle for my taste.”  Garrus sighed and yanked away the pillow.  “I started the coffee pot.  Just hang out for a bit, and stay _awake_.  I’m going to meet up with the Commander.”  

 

Groaning, Joker pulled the blankets over his head.  “What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?  Because, seriously, I'm not even gonna put on pants if I don't have to.”

 

“Right, just … stay under the covers, then.”   _And people ask why I don't sleep in the bunks._

 

Jeff snorted.  “Yeah, yeah.   _Fine_ .  Whatever.”  A hand snuck from under the thick thermal, batted around wildly before finding his belt and grabbing it, dragging his pants back into the bed with him.  “Jesus, look, I'm putting them on, alright?  What now?  Whaddya want from me?  Want me to stand around all _awake_ and shit, maybe do a little jig?”  

 

“Not a morning person, are you?”  

 

“Nah, I'm just not a 'heavily-armed alien stands over your bed in a dark room’ person.”  Tantalizing, steaming caffeine wafted through the open door, and the mound of bedding stilled, sniffed, suddenly gave birth.  Moreau’s hair was plastered at odd angles.  “But I _am_ a 'heavily-armed alien makes you coffee’ kinda guy, so, uh, thanks.  I guess.”  His feet touched the floor beside the bunk and, satisfied the pilot wouldn't go back to sleep, Garrus turned to leave.  “You think she's gonna steal us?”

 

“That doesn't sound _anything_ like her.”

 

Eight minutes later as she shook hands with Anderson in a club after-hours, Garrus chuckled.   _Not at_ **_all_ ** _._  “We owe you, Captain.  But if you could maybe leave your omni on when you take down Udina, I might know a guy who’d pay some good money.”  

 

The old soldier cracked a smile, but it didn't garner the laugh he used to share so freely.  Shepard dropped a hand on Anderson’s shoulder, squeezed.  “We can do this.  We _can._ ”

 

“I know _you_ can.”  He stood with a shake of his head.  “I'll figure something out.  Just get back to your ship, Commander, on the double.”  

 

“Yes, sir.”  She offered him a quick salute.

 

“Shepard.”

 

“Anderson?”  

 

Vakarian would like to think he was getting pretty good at interspecies body language, but wrinkles still threw him for a loop.  There was obviously something there, between them;  paternal pride, maybe?  He could _sort of_ picture Castis making that face, he guessed -- although decades past -- so he settled for that.  

 

“Give him _hell_ , Commander.”  

 

Shepard took the steps two at a time down to the ward with Garrus close behind, her eyes on traffic through the far windows.  “Morning rush.  It'd probably be faster on foot.”

  
“Good.  I could use a bit of a stretch.”  

 

Running was too suspicious, they decided, and a pair of soldiers on a brisk jog was a safe enough cover (“Late to post?” one officer threw out as they passed at a good clip), but it was hard not to turn it into a race back to the Normandy when he so easily outpaced her.  

 

Shepard tossed him a wild grin, barely winded, and shot out a hand to catch the next corner.  “You sure you don't want to hang back?”  A moment to even her breathing pattern.  “This won't look great on your record.”  

 

“Hah!  For a day.”  Vakarian’s long legs smoothly kept two steps per her four, and after only a brief internal debate he decided to push his luck and made it three.  “They’ll change their minds when we save the galaxy.”  He caught her eye and, very _dramatically_ , checked his messages without losing ground.  He began to pull ahead, even, and the Commander's eyes narrowed in challenge as their elevator came in sight;  the last hundred meters became a flat sprint.  They slid through the doors together in a laughing clatter of armor, and she thumped into the far corner.  Garrus tapped their bay number into the terminal, smug and composed.   Shepard gave his shoulder a light shove, smiling, and his stomach flipped _only_ because the mass effect fields engaged and the floor dropped and -- _Sure.  Makes sense._

 

“We _both_ know I can't outrun you.  You let me win!”  

 

“Me?”  Mandibles dropped in mock surprise and he reclined against a support rail.   _Her eyes crinkle at the corners when she laughs_ .  He'd never forget.  “Commander, you _jest._ ”

 

The doors opened to their bay, and she stared up at her ship as it loomed, the weight of what they were about to do finally settling about her and keeping her quiet until they entered the dock.  “Garrus, thanks.  For seeing this through.  I couldn't do it without you.”

 

He checked his omni again as they paused for decontamination, flared a smirk as he swiped something off-screen.  “Neither could we.”  The airlock hissed and, pressed before them, the crew waited.  Shepard could only gape.  

 

“You _promised_ ,” Wrex growled from the back, and the floodgates burst.

 

“Did’je _really_ think we’d let ye go after Saren _without_ us?”  “C’mon, Commander.  You know us better than _that_.” “My mum says to tell you the Council’s full of shit, and Tira sent you biscuits.”  “ _Ilos!  And you weren't even going to--_ ”  “I mean, I’ve never stolen a ship before, but--” “ _\--decades of research!  And--_ ”  “Do we get raises for going pirate?”  “You were gonna leave us behind!”  “-- _find of a lifetime, Shepard, you can't_ not --”  “Can we have pirate _names_?!”  “--it’s not like we won't bring it _back_ \--”

 

The Commander had never been so proud.

 

Save two brothers in security who bowed out for emergency family leave and those already at their posts, near the entirety of the crew looked on behind them as Shepard peered over the pilot seat;  she'd offered them all the same out she'd offered Vakarian, and to a one, any who'd answered Joker’s ship-wide bulletin had demanded to stay.  Those normally stationed around the CIC eagerly crowded forward, staring at the dash, at the holo-lock, _excited_ .  Months under a new Commander, and all of them great people, loyal soldiers who believed in their cause. _And their leader.  A Spectre, even.  Wonder what dad would think about that?_

 

A deep grumble from the door, his armored maroon hump swaying behind the gathered human faces as Wrex fidgeted.  “...so is he dead?”  

 

“I'm sure he's … fine,” but the unsure tremble in Liara’s voice gave her away, and Wrex snorted.  

 

“Shoulda sent me.  No one wants to see two old men in a slap fight.”  Tali’s helmet swung to him, purple-clad elbow nudging.  “What?”

 

Minutes rolled into more, and Shepard shifted her feet, muttering, “C’mon, Anderson…”

 

_Green!_

 

The Normandy was soaring before she could give the order, and she smiled as the relay came into view, hoops spinning madly and mass effect fields stable.  “Any pursuit?”  

 

“Like they could _even._ ”  Joker's hands slid this way and that, confirming, managing, monitoring, guiding, moving windows out of his way and juggling processes;  Garrus watched the pilot work, appreciating in silence the man’s skill at the helm.  “Vector locked.  We're golden, Commander.”

 

The monitors blinked and the windows bathed them all in blue ambience as they made their first jump;  a cheer echoed back through the command deck and Shepard tweaked the bill of Joker’s hat.  “Excellent.  How long until we hit Ilos?”

 

“We’re headed to the Traverse, so...”  Moreau brought up a window resembling her galaxy map, spun it flat and spread it larger to indicate their route.  “Hours, probably.  I'll see if I can trim it up a bit.”

 

Pressly eased his way to the front, and Karin stepped back to give him access to the pilot's map, his fingers already in the holo and making suggestions.  “It's a bit out of our way, but if we swing through the DMZ…”  Joker muttered and flipped the image, insisted on something else and Shepard left them to it.

 

“Take care of it, you two, and ping me before we hit the last relay.  I want a front-row seat.”  The Commander twisted on a heel and propped her fists on her hips.  “Rest and get ready, folks;  they have a huge head start.  It's gonna be a mess.  Saren’s likely made it there, but it's not exactly a _meteor_.  We might get lucky.”  

 

“Maybe he got lost?”  Liara folded her arms, head tilted.  “We know everything he does now, and we _still_ don’t know what, exactly, we’re looking for.”

 

“Maybe.”  Shepard quirked a small smile.  “Dismissed.”  

 

Joker was left grumbling about aliens and coffee as the Navigator toyed with their flight path and the helm emptied.

 

The hours crept on, and the crew largely gravitated to the mess as busy work petered out and tensions ran taut.  Pressly and Chakwas commandeered the java station and conversed over a steaming fresh pot (their second between them).  Their requisitions officer -- _I can never remember his name_ , Garrus thought, eyes narrowed as he wracked his memory;   _Adam?  No.  Tarth?  No, not enough eyes.  Jon, maybe?_ \-- pulled out a deck, asked for bets.    

 

Alenko threw his cards down on the table not long after.  “ _Damn_ it, Tali.  You cleaned me out.”  

 

Her speaker flashed a giggle as Tali scooped her winnings -- a few gift chits, dextro rations, a bar of turian chocolate, Daniels’ carbide bracelet -- and Gabby tapped her own hand closed on the table and tossed it back to the deck.  “That’s okay.  It’s fine.  Totally fine.  I'll get it back.”

 

Ken scoffed, swiped the cards together and began shuffling.  “T’ain’t fair, that mask.  Tells are th’ whole _point_ of poker.”

 

“Oh, she has _tells._ ”  Garrus spread his hand on the table and Tali froze.  “I think I like this game.  This is _mine_ , yes?”  Without breaking eye contact, he leaned over and slowly claimed the pile, pulled it to him, dug _exactly_ where she knew he would.  Tali whimpered as Vakarian took a bite of the dextro candy, made a show of savoring it.  “Almonds?   _Nice._ ”

 

Leaning back in his chair, Kaidan laced his fingers over his abdomen, sighing as he watched some of the pool disappear into the turian’s armor.  “I was _saving_ that chit.”

 

Donnelly dealt a new round;  he passed the Lieutenant only an apologetic shrug, and Gabby accepted her new cards with a pleased grin that only widened when her bracelet thumped back on the table.  “Then you shouldn't have thrown it in the pot.”  

 

Shepard spotted the game as she came around the corner, cookie in one hand and datapad in the other, and changed course.  “Who's winning?”  

 

The Quarian rearranged her cards, slumped, and folded the hand.  “ _Garrus_ stole my chocolate.”

 

“Then don't put it in the pot?”

 

“That’s what _I_ said.”  Daniels giggled, slamming her cards down.  “Flush!  Anybody?  No one?   _Yes!_ ”  There were groans around the table and Vakarian smiled as he slid her the round’s bets;  she dove for her jewelry and clicked it back around her wrist.  “I mean, I'm taking the credits too,” and Jon dropped his head to the table.

 

“That's it.  I'm done.  I can't bet licenses and that's about all I have left.”  

 

Shepard dropped a reassuring pat on the officer’s back as she continued on to her cabin.  “Making mutiny fun, I approve.  Carry on.”  Engineering collectively whooped, and she waved over her shoulder,  disappeared through her door.

 

“That's it for me, then.  You let me know if that Ruth's chit comes back into play, though.”  As Alenko strode off to his locker, Garrus fished his winnings out of a pocket and his brow plates rose at the familiar logo.   _Well, I'll be damned._  

 

Kenneth broke his reverie with the next deal and he waved a hand, returned his cards, settled the chit back into hiding.   _Now or never._  “I think I'm going to call it quits, for now.”  Groans again, but smiles, too, and he laughed.  “My finances thank you.”  

 

“ _Mine_ don't,”  Tali mumbled behind him.    

 

The Commander’s door whooshed open at his first knock and he took a few tentative steps inside.  He'd never been in her quarters before, but he'd also never considered a _human_ as dating material, so everything about this was new and he could only stare, clear his throat.

 

“Garrus?”  Shepard discretely brushed the last of the crumbs from her desk.  “What's up?”  

 

“Commander, I --”

 

“You might be studying spectres, but it's the end of the line.  I'm pretty sure we can drop the formalities, now.”  Her chair swiveled away from the desk to face him.  “What can I do for you?”

 

“Shepard.”   _What do I say here, anyways?  'I talked to your not-boyfriend and he told me you love me.  Wanna snuggle?’  Spirits._  “So, Ilos.”

 

“Yeah…” Fingers carded through her short, dark curls as he resisted the urge to do the same.  “There's no telling what we'll find, _if_ we find anything.  I'm worried about how much ground we lost, how much _time._ ”  

 

And then it was _his_ hand on _her_ shoulder, for once, reassuring and supporting, and Shepard looked up.   “I _know_ you.  We'll make it, and we'll save the day, and then we can all go home heroes.  I’ll be wanting my cut from the action figures.  There might even be a _movie_ .”   _There’s the smile._  

 

“What about you?  Have you decided what you’ll do after all this?”  The datapad clinked onto a pile of siblings and she gestured a hand at the spare seat;  the chair was small and hard, made for humans, but he … managed.  Sort of.  

 

Shepard winced.  “Sorry, I'll --”

 

“It's no trouble.  Uh, really,”  he muttered.  Vakarian shifted around a bit, leaned -- hip spur caught on something and he grunted -- finally settling into a somewhat comfortable arrangement.  “I put a lot of thought into what you said, about doing the most good and the least harm.  I'm going to reapply for Spectre consideration.”  

 

Her pride was bright and quick and his cowl warmed, subharmonics trilling deep under her range of hearing.  “You'll have a hell of a recommendation waiting for you.”

 

 _Wait, what?_  “Really?  You'd do that?”

 

“Garrus, I don't think you _realize_ how much you've changed since you came aboard.  You were always a master behind the scope, but you’re an excellent team player, too;  you think quickly and rationally under fire.  And you're always where I need you to be, before I even _know_ I need you.  You can lead _and_ follow, and your investigative skills outclass mine.  You _care_.  You would make a fantastic Spectre.”  She offered him a wan smile.  “It's gonna suck when you leave.”  

 

Neck rushing to navy under an absolute mountain of praise, the chit seemed hot against his plates, goading him on.  “Oh, you never know… A pair of spectres, kicking asses and occasionally remembering names?  That sounds fun.”  

 

“Hmm.  A one-of-a-kind human-turian Spectre team, on a one-of-a-kind human-turian frigate.”  Finger to her chin, she mimed consideration as if they didn’t already know her answer.  “Sounds fairy tale-ish, almost.  I love it.”

 

Garrus adjusted, mirrored her posture with one knee over the other -- ankle, in his case -- _How?!_ \-- and his mandibles flared wide.  “Think you could handle things while I'm gone?”  

 

“Or you could … stay.”  Shepard's cheeks reddened slightly, but she wasn't shy, didn't try to pretend he wouldn't notice.  “I seem to remember a promise for a date.”

 

“Riiiiight, right.   _Ruth's_.  You know, I think we can make that happen.  Turns out...”  Garrus pulled the chit from his pocket and held it up for her to see, and she snickered behind a hand.  “...I am really good at poker, apparently.”

 

“ _Nice_.  Who's my grumpy crewman?”  

 

He tried to keep a straight face and failed miserably.  “Alenko.”

 

The Commander’s guffaw echoed through the cabin before she could stop herself.  “No, I shouldn't laugh.  Sorry, it’s --”

 

“Oh, trust me.Everyone knows.”  

 

“Is it that bad?”  Shepard dropped her elbow to the desk and chin to her hand, still struggling not to smile.  “I mean, I haven't exactly tried to, uh, _encourage_ him, but I couldn't just... shove him in a closet.”

 

“I'm sure he'll live.  Listen, Shepard -- ”  

 

“Just so you know, there's no pressure, here.”  She looked away to fiddle with her omnitool, dismissed a couple lingering blips.  The orange light washed her skin bright, but he still noted the blush.   “I mean, I know I'm _technically_ your commanding officer, but I don't want you to worry about --”  

 

Breath held, he reached out -- hesitated, even, but she didn't move away, didn't move -- and finally finally _finally_ slid his talons through her hair.  “Not for much longer, though.”    _I've been wanting to do this all damn day._ Shepard closed her eyes as she leaned into his touch.

 

He twitched when Joker’s voice erupted from her omnitool.  “Ilos relay in five, Commander.”  _And I_ _'m never making him coffee again_.

 

She stilled, cheek to his palm and smirk on her lips.  “So… Ruth's.  It's a date, then.”

 

“It's a date.”  Reluctantly, his hand dropped to his lap.

 

“I'm gonna hold you to that, once the Reapers are dealt with.”  Shepard stood and pressed a kiss to the plate of his cheek.  “And then we’re gonna talk, and see where it goes.”

 

A small crowd had beaten them to the helm, but they parted easily to let Shepard through and Garrus slipped by after her.  “Ah, Commander?  We’ve got company.”  The floor swayed ever-so-slightly beneath their feet as Joker engaged stealth just a hair after emissions plummeted, and the view screen before them filled with Geth.  

  
  
Liara’s eyes widened at the fleet and the planet behind it.  “Have their sensors picked us up yet?”  

 

“Unless we get close enough for a visual, they won’t have any idea we’re here.”  

 

Navigator Pressly flicked through sensor readings at a side terminal, frowned, and wove between onlookers across the cabin to its twin.  “We’re picking up some strange signals from the planet’s surface.”    
  
“Bring us down, Joker.”  The Commander nodded.  “Lock in on those coordinates.”     
  
“Negative on that, Commander.  The nearest landing zone’s two clicks away.  You need at least a hundred meters of open terrain to drop a Mako, and the most I can find near Saren is twenty.”  

 

 _Spirits,_ thought Garrus, as the cockpit erupted into arguments.  Kaidan paced by the door, insisting, hands to his hips, and Liara chewed on one of her nails as she frantically panned the map, scanning for alternatives.  The Navigator threw his hands to the ceiling at one point, frustrated, “ _There_ is _no other landing zone_!”

  
“I can do it.”  Jeff glared at his target through the window like he would fight the entire damn planet himself.

 

Appraising, Shepard cast him with a skeptical eye.  “Joker?”

 

“ _I can do it._ ”

 

“Good enough for me.  Tali, Garrus, gear up and meet me at the Mako.  Joker?  Drop us right on top of that bastard.”    

 

***

  


Tali screamed the whole fall to Ilos.  

 

The Mako rocked to a violent halt mere inches shy of the bunker and Shepard slammed a fist on the comm.  “Ha! Haha _haa!_  Joker!  God _damn_ I love you, sir!”  

 

“I take cash, credit, and rum.”  The roar of the ship faded into the distance but they heard his chuckle clear over the speakers even as the vehicle emptied.  “Good luck down there, Commander.  It's rude to die with an open tab.”

 

Tali turned on the spot, head back as she took in the lush surroundings, the overgrowth crowding the immense door.  “We should have brought rockets.” And, later, as she emptied her shotgun into the headlamp of a Geth Prime, Tali huffed, “We _really_ should have brought rockets.”  

 

Garrus nudged a deactivated shock trooper with a toe.  “If I never have to hear about it again, I will _take_ you back to that stall and _buy_ you those rockets.  I'm _sorry_.”

 

“ _You said we'd never use them!_ ”  

 

The Commander rolled her eyes and propped her rifle to a shoulder, reaching for a terminal with her free hand.  “This must be the command center for the entire complex.”  

 

“Commander?”  Garrus couldn't be sure through her visor but he was _pretty_ sure Tali shared his confusion as Shepard flicked through what appeared to be a Prothean database with oblivious ease.

 

“Well, _hello._ ”  She stepped back and a broken VI flickered into existence, hissing and crackling.

 

“ _\-- Reapers -- the Citadel -- overwhelmed -- only hope -- act of desperation -- the Conduit -- all is lost --_ ”  

 

“Shepard, can you understand it?”  Tali flicked through her omnitool, browsing the shattered code and shaking her head.  “Liara is going to _kill_ us,” she whispered.

 

“ _\-- cannot be stopped -- cannot be stopped -- cannot be --_ ”

 

The Commander stiffened, spun on a heel.  “Uh.  Mmm, yeah, _let's just keep moving_.”

 

The next VI wasn't much better, but Shepard silently thanked whatever deities kept this one communicable.  “ _I am called ‘Vigil.’  You are not Prothean, but you are not machine, either.  This reality was one of many that was anticipated.  This is why we sent our warning through the Beacons."_ ("So dead," Tali whispered.) _"I do not sense the taint of indoctrination upon any of you, unlike the other that passed recently.  Perhaps there is still hope._ ”

 

“That was Saren.”  Shepard stepped forward, holstering her sidearm.  “Where is he now?”

  
  
Vigil flashed, shimmered, calculated.  “ _The one you call Saren has not reached the Conduit.  Not_ _yet._ _I have been monitoring your communications since you arrived at this facility.  My remaining database is currently limited to information vital to your task;  this is why I have brought you here._ ”

 

With a nod, she touched the comm at her ear.  “Joker, how's our signal?”

 

“Solid, Commander.”

 

“Copy.  Vigil, give me the rundown.  Garrus, get a warning out;  Joker, standby.  Tali, record everything.  Be ready to run, folks.”  

 

***

 

“If you would just _read the files --_ ”

 

“ _Detective_ Chellick, you seem to be under the impression that I care about the opinions of a _criminal_ .  I am fully aware of the Commander’s ‘recommendations _._ ’  I am _also_ fully aware that she is a fugitive and a mutineer _._ The answer is no.  And don't think I don't know _exactly_ who fed you that information.”  Pallin’s gaze roved over him, eyes narrowed at the rifles, the pistols, the vest full of thermal clips.  “You’re taking her hysteria far too seriously.”

 

“Executor --”  Decian glanced down as his omnitool blinked beneath their table.  Under normal circumstances he would flat-out block _that_ name, but Vakarian wouldn't message him from hostile territory without cause.  “Apologies, please excuse me.  This is urgent.”

  
He chose to ignore the Executor’s sneer.

 

 _Conduit confirmed._ ** _Pres statue?_  
** **CIT ACTIVE RELAY**  
_Saren ETA <2m    _ _  
Shepard <5m_

 

His head turned.  Over the low café wall, the relay monument crackled across the Presidium, eezo lightning snapping in the recycled air;  Pallin followed his attention and his mandibles hung.  Rings twitched once, twice, slowly began to revolve and the floor thrummed beneath Decian’s feet.   _They should have listened to her_ .  “Executor, _go!_  Get to the Council!”

 

Pallin, for once, obeyed without question.

 

Civilians fled for the exits by the time the relay stabilized and the first Geth platforms landed in heaps of metal, unfolded.  Decian Chellick made a stoic contrast as he stood, set a mental note to thank Meg later, calmly double-checked his weapons -- excessive for a business meeting, perhaps, but not an ambush -- and picked his first target.

 

***

 

Shepard slid into the Mako at a run with her hands already reaching for the ignition;  Tali clambered into the back seat, and, noticing the driver, _dove_ for her harness.  The Commander slammed her foot down on the accelerator before Garrus even had his door closed.  

 

He exhaled, cursing, as the last buckle clicked and they careened down slopes, around corner after corner, flying over massive roots and slamming into walls and tires fighting for purchase in the silt.  She didn't stop to admire the view as the Conduit loomed, only leaned into the steering, glared down her intended path _directly_ through a sea of Geth, and Vakarian gaped.  “Are you _sure_ you don’t want me to drive?”  

 

“Are you _kidding_?”  One hand impatiently waved his talons away from the wheel.  

 

There was a yelp in the back when the Mako bucked, started to roll;  thrusters fluttering, Shepard overcorrected and bounced at an angle over the next hill.  Tali clung to the reinforced straps across her chest, jerking about under the tethers.  “Keelah!   _Tell_ me we are _not_ doing this, Shepard!”

 

“You bet your adorable Quarian _ass_ we are!”  The Commander alternated hands on the wheel to into her own harness between evasions.  She nicked a Colossus and the vehicle spun;  Shepard punched the thrusters again and turned mid-jump to point them directly at the relay, fishtailing as they landed.  Garrus thumped into the ceiling, the struts desperately tried to keep up, engine revved and scenery bounced.    “Hold on to something, kids, because this is about to be the _coolest fucking thing I have ever done!_ ”  

 

She floored it all the way to the Conduit.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a DA transplant, so after ME3's "THERE'S A REAPER IN MY WAY, WREX" I like to think of Para!Shep like Purple!Hawke *but in the future.*

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this directly after the smut. I didn't expect to have *feels* about the smut, and I didn't expect *Chellick* to have feels about the smut, but it is what it is. He's a Genuine Good Guy(tm).


End file.
